


Love is like this; not a heartbeat, but a moan

by angelichl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 13k words of Harry pining after Louis essentially, Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Childhood Friends, Cuddling & Snuggling, Enemies to Lovers, Knotting, Literal Sleeping Together, Lots of Sex, Louis hates alphas, M/M, Omega Louis, Omegas are Oppressed, Pining, Porn with Feelings, There's a wedding, ahh ok here we go, but they used to be best friends, i guess it's angst, lots of pining, lottie and tommy are mentioned but very briefly, oh well, ok goodbye, sorry - Freeform, they get married, they go to a beach house, to spend Louis heat together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 11:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12131652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelichl/pseuds/angelichl
Summary: "He hates this, more than anything in the world he hates this. His title, his rank, his DNA. Unchangeable. Fated.And then there’s Harry, born to be unobjectively superior to Louis and all other O’s. Unlike other A’s, Harry doesn’t wear his alpha-ness very well. He’s clumsy with it, like walking around in a pair of shoes a size too big. His life is defined by uncertainty and tentativeness, and those are definitely not qualities alphas should have.Sometimes, when Louis ponders it for too long, he thinks that maybe Harry resents being an A just as much as Louis resents being an O."In which Harry loves Louis, but Louis has been cold to him ever since he presented as an omega at age fifteen.Eight years later, Louis approaches Harry with a request, and who is Harry to deny him?





	Love is like this; not a heartbeat, but a moan

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to fall into the alpha-Harry/omega-Louis trope, but I didn't even think about it much and it just felt right. I promise I'll write an omega!Harry fic soon...
> 
> The title is from "Cento for the Night I Said 'I Love You'" by Nicole Sealey.

“Ready?”

Louis looks up sharply upon Harry stepping out onto the porch with an expensive YSL duffel bag hanging off his shoulder. His face is impassive yet Louis would be a fool not to see that he’s nervous, his shoulders tense. He’s holding his breath.

“Mhm, just gotta grab my bag,” Louis mumbles, attempting the cool demeanor he has been sporting for years now. Even after eons of practice with feigning apathy he still feels as if Harry can see right through it. Harry is very perceptive, and at times like this, when Louis’ guard is down, it’s harder than ever to keep the mask on.

As Louis begins to stand up and go inside to gather the belongings he packed earlier in the day, he finds his hands already shaking. His heat won’t be for a few hours now, but he can still feel the build-up and everything that leads up to the shaking desperate despicable mess he’ll soon be. Louis resents the way his skin already feels hypersensitive, like a simple touch will set him spiraling into his heat. On top of it all his stomach is churning and his eyelids are heavy. A nap would be nice right now, but there’s something he wants more than sleep…

Harry immediately notices Louis standing up from where he was curled on the bench on the porch. He halts Louis with the firm, mandating lift of his arm, telling him to sit back down, telling him he’ll get Louis’ bags.

Louis huffs, a bit peeved because Harry is already treating him like he can’t do anything for himself. Well, in reality Louis isn’t exactly pissed at Harry in particular… just the situation in general. His nature. His biology. Who he is, and where he fits into society. What his role is as an omega.

Harry returns quickly. He’s carrying two bags now, his own and Louis’, and he does it with ease like the big strong alpha he is (sarcasm). Louis stands up and stretches out, meeting Harry down the stairs to the porch. He had lost feeling in his legs from sitting still for so long.

Together and in ultimate silence they walk to Harry’s car which is parked on the street. Louis falls a step or two behind Harry as they walk, in the way he always does when he’s walking with superiors. He resents it but can’t help it; it’s just a thing he does that he cannot change, not even as hard as he tries. He used to blame it on nature or social etiquette and all that, but honestly it’s just habit now. He does it without even thinking about it, and it’s what’s expected of him so no one ever notices anyways.

When they get to the car Harry sets the bags in the trunk and shuts it closed as Louis slides in the front seat. A small moment of uncomfortably awkward silence resides in the space between the time Harry closes the door and turns the key in the ignition. As soon as the car is on the silence is startled away, and Louis feels slightly less uncomfortable. Slightly being the key word.

As a defense mechanism or even just a way of deflecting attention from himself Louis pulls his knees to his chest and rests his head on the window.

He wishes to God he could be different. Different as in this: not an omega. Not expected to submit. Not expected to keep quiet and pliant.

“Feeling okay?”

For an alpha, Harry is unusually kind and empathetic. It must be because of his mum, Louis thinks, and Gemma. They’re both O’s. Maybe that’s why Harry is different and nonconformist… he has seen the suffer.

Louis tilts his head sharply and gets a painful crick in his neck before he decides to rest against the window again. “Yeah, just tired.” The second part isn’t a lie.

“Sleep now,” Harry says softly, as he turns out of the neighborhood and onto the main road. Louis is really close to scoffing even though Harry doesn’t say the words like an order, just like a suggestion. It’s just that most of the time when A’s speak to Louis, it sounds like they’re giving him permission to do something he doesn’t need permission to do. Whatever.

Of all the A’s in Louis’ life, Harry has always been the least alpha-like, not just physically but in all aspects of his personality too. Louis hates to admit it but Harry has always been respectful and controlled, more like a beta than anything.

He doesn’t fuck around, he doesn’t manipulate people, and he doesn’t pull the alpha card whenever he desires the authority. In fact he isn’t very power-hungry at all. Harry would make a better O than he would an A. Yet there are some things in Harry that cannot be changed no matter how hard Harry tries, some things that are just in his nature…

Louis has those things too, those things he can’t change no matter how hard he tries. Like how he always instinctively tucks his chin to his chest when someone yells, or how he always walks two steps behind alphas, or how he helplessly obeys all direct commands. He wishes he could be defiant, autonomous, and living on his own terms. But Louis is an omega and that means his story was written before he was even born. Biology and fate say his future holds nothing but clinginess and domestic servitude. Submission and compliance always.

He hates this, more than anything in the world he hates this. His title, his rank, his DNA. Unchangeable. Fated.

And then there’s Harry, born to be unobjectively superior to Louis and all other O’s. Unlike other A’s, Harry doesn’t wear his alpha-ness very well. He’s clumsy with it, like walking around in a pair of shoes a size too big. His life is defined by uncertainty and tentativeness, and those are definitely not qualities alphas should have.

Sometimes, when Louis ponders it for too long, he thinks that maybe Harry resents being an A just as much as Louis resents being an O.  
Louis sighs.  
It doesn’t matter. Even if it did matter, there’s no changing it.  
Whatever.

+

Harry has to breathe through his mouth.

(Harry hates breathing through his mouth.)

The scent is blinding, deafening, and he’s thinking right now that he might pass out. Or just die. Or worse, fall into an early rut.

(Breathing through his mouth is like playing music with the sound turned all the way down. He longs to hear the song, longs to listen and listen forever and ever.

Okay. Maybe this metaphor is a bit weak, but what Harry is really thinking is that he just wants to bury his nose into Louis’ neck and scent him, and never let go, like, ever.)

Even when he’s breathing through his mouth, the essence of Louis is still more overwhelming than anything’s he’s ever experienced, and Louis isn’t even fully in heat yet. He’s fallen asleep with his head rested on the side window. It’s quite peaceful. Harry knows once they get closer to their destination Louis will be more fitful, squirming as his heat approaches and looms.

Though his mum and sister are both O’s, Harry has never been around for their heats because they always planned trips away for privacy. Harry’s mum has always been more open in talking about it, especially when Louis presented when they were teenagers and Harry wondered why he was suddenly so closed off and harsh, missing school for a week and a half and then totally ignoring Harry even after he came back. So even though Harry has never been with an O during heat he knows more than the average A, what with his family full of O’s and all.

At twenty-three years old, Harry wouldn’t call himself inexperienced. During the past few years he’s been around experimenting and experiencing, hooking up with a few B’s and O’s here and there and even an A, once. Especially for alphas, it’s common to sleep around. Harry doesn’t like it very much so he kinda abstains, unless the right person comes around. His A friends think he’s strange for it, his B friends don’t care, but the O’s he hangs around feel more comfortable with him because of it. (Louis is the exception. Louis doesn’t like Harry at all, no matter what he does. Louis hates Harry on principle.)

So Harry isn’t inexperienced when it comes to intimacy, but he is extremely inexperienced when it comes to helping O’s through their heats. As in, he has never helped an omega through their heat before.

This is a bit concerning, seeing as Harry is quite nervous he’s going to do something horrifying. There’s a ton of room for error, with the situation so new, and especially with the way he feels about Louis… the way he has felt about Louis… the way he will always feel about Louis…

Harry’s feelings are kinda insurmountable. He’s very afraid of doing something damaging, something he’ll regret. Like bonding Louis. Or hurting him. Or… both? Not a good thought.

After only a half hour into the drive, Harry is already suffocating within the close confines of the car. Louis is still sleeping peacefully, unaware that his scent is driving Harry crazy.  
It’s the most amazing scent in the world, wholly indescribable, but if he had to call it something he would call it sweet. Sweet, not sickly sweet, but sweet like flowers and sunsets and fresh strawberries. Sweet like summer sun. Sweet like happiness and bliss and all things good.

Harry brings his hand to his face to filter the air, covering his nose and mouth in the soft sleeve of his hoodie. It doesn’t work very effectively so eventually he rolls down the window in a haste, nearly sticking his head out like an excited, panting dog. The flush of cool spring air is rejuvenating to Harry but it startles Louis awake.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks with the edges of his voice dipped in sleep. He frowns at the open window and the chilly spring air rushing in, sitting up more and glancing at Harry.

“Can’t breathe,” Harry mutters, pressing the back of his palm to his own flushed cheek, directing his eyes to the highway in front of him.  
“Oh.” Louis shifts a little, looking uncomfortable.

The thing is, Harry can tell Louis isn’t ecstatic about spending his heat with Harry. Ever since he presented they stopped talking altogether; Louis refused to leave his room even days after his first heat ended, and when he returned to school he was colder than ever to his friends who were betas and alphas. That was when he began to exclusively hang out with other O’s. They always laid low in school and stuck to themselves, protecting each other.

Eight years after Louis first presented, and four years for Harry, and here they are. Driving three hours to get to the house on the sea. To spend Louis’ heat together.  
(For the sake of ending Louis’ heat short, and for no reason more, of course. An acquaintance helping out his old best friend, so Louis can attend his sister’s wedding. Strictly platonic, no feelings attached. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.)

“Sorry,” Harry murmurs, rolling the window up halfway and then clutching the steering wheel in a tight grasp with both hands. With the window half-closed he feels lightheaded again, dizzy like he’s going to faint.

Louis just nods and then tucks his chin into his neck, curling up further in the seat. When he moves the scent gets worse, and Harry has to really struggle to focus his eyes on the road. God, if they get into a car accident because Harry is too desperate and delirious…

They drive for a while longer, falling into yet another conversational drought. The only sound above the silence is the radio playing at a volume low enough that it’s as much in the background as the constant sound of the tires against the road.

“I’m cold,” Louis whines, and Harry glances over at him to see he’s got his arms wrapped around himself and he’s nearly shivering. From the years of being near him (but still not on speaking terms) Harry knows that Louis always becomes extremely sensitive before his heat, so the cold must really be bothering him even more than it does on a normal day. Harry feels sympathy swell in his heart.

“If I close the window I’m gonna crash the car,” he reasons, looking at Louis who is curled in on himself. Harry then feels ashamed for being so weak, and he thinks that if any other O in the entire world was here instead of Louis, Harry would be fine.

But. Harry has always been weak. Weak for Louis at least. And he absolutely definitely no doubt about it cannot handle the scent of Louis so near heat that he has to keep the window open even when the omega is uncomfortably cold and shivering. What a fucky, selfish alpha Harry is.

Louis just glares at him before closing his eyes, rubbing his arms to keep warm. Harry feels an overwhelming urge within himself to climb across the console and wrap Louis up in his arms, utilizing his own body heat to keep his omega warm…

His omega. Louis is not his omega. In fact, Louis is no one’s omega, belongs to no one but himself, and has said as much on many occasions. He will not be owned. He will not be possessed.

In all honesty, Harry doesn’t want that for Louis either. He wants Louis to be liberated and free from his gender and all the obligations that come with it. He wants Louis and all others to be on equal footing. He wants this so much, so much he has to stop thinking about it because it hurts to desperately want something so impossible.

And yet Harry’s own shitty biology is overriding this feeling of wanting liberty for Louis and all other O’s. In rival with Harry’s strong morals are his undeniable instincts. As much as he believes omegas are no lesser than anyone else, there’s something unchangeable in Harry, something despicable, that views omegas as property—possessions to be owned. The thought of this dark, wicked part of himself makes Harry sick, despite the knowledge that he has fought against his nature for years, for eons, forever.

Still, his instincts are telling to pull over immediately. Telling him to drag Louis into his arms immediately and fuck him senseless immediately.

Harry grits his teeth and concentrates on driving. “I’m sorry,” he says again, feeling himself grow hard despite his best efforts. Even with the window wide open, the scent of Louis is slowly becoming more and more potent. Harry doesn’t want to be like this—it’s just his biology, just his body reacting to Louis’ scent as it would to any O nearing his heat.

“I’ll stop at the next rest stop, okay?” Harry drums his fingertips on the steering wheel impatiently, speeding up with the press of his foot on the accelerator. “I have a blanket in the back and you can have my hoodie. We’ll grab something to eat too.”

Louis doesn’t comment on Harry’s offer of his hoodie. Harry’s pulse quickens with the thought of Louis in his clothes. Louis’ scent on his clothes…

“’m not hungry.”

“You should eat though, you’ll need the energy—“ Harry begins, about to lecture about omegas’ needs to eat enough before their heats in order to avoid an energy deficit which can be very dangerous and harmful to their health. Undoubtedly, three to seven days of nonstop sex is gruesome and tiring, and omegas don’t usually eat during their heats since they’re too desperate for their alphas. Harry knows it’s customary for alphas to make a meal for the omega afterward, and he also knows it’ll be all instinct at that point to protect what’s his.

(Harry grinds his teeth together at that specific thought, pressing the heel of his palm down onto his crotch to keep his erection in check. They still have another hour of driving before they reach the beach house. Also, Harry would rather not have an early rut, thank you very much.)

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Louis snaps. His voice is biting and acerbic, and he looks over at Harry with cold eyes.

Harry is startled. “Sorry—you know I didn’t mean to, uh…” He trails off, uncertain of how to finish his sentence. He didn’t mean to act like a typical big-headed alpha ordering an O around. But of course that’s what the suggestion came off as, and now Louis probably thinks he’s one of those dogmatic alphas who always needs to be in control. “To, uh, tell you what to do like a knobhead…”

I just want to take care of you, he thinks sadly, wishing he could say these words aloud instead. Harry sighs, bites his lip, and keeps driving, the both of them falling into a now very tense silence.

So the five minutes of driving before they finally reach the rest stop is a mixture of strained silence, Louis’ sweet scent filling the car, and Harry feeling like he’s going to pass out and drive straight off the road. He parks in the first vacant spot he sees, throwing the car in park and tearing his keys out of the ignition. He tugs the door open and nearly tumbles out of the car, sucking in as many deep breaths of fresh air as he can.

Now that he’s finally able to breathe, the fog in his mind clears enough for him to remember his promise. Harry hurriedly peels off his hoodie and leans back into the car, handing it to Louis.

Louis takes it quickly and without question, wasting no time in pulling it on over his shirt. The hoodie is even big on Harry so on Louis it nearly swallows him. Louis tugs the sleeves over his hands until they’re covered, and brings the collar up over his chin to his nose. Harry watches with wide, startled eyes as Louis breathes in deeply, blatantly scenting Louis’ hoodie.

His heat must really be near, if he’s doing something so overtly… intimate.

“Better?” Harry asks, standing outside the car helplessly. His stomach is churning with nerves and anticipation. Of all the ways he’s imagined being with Louis, courting him, mating him… this has never been something he has even considered… Knotting Louis just to end his heat early so he’ll make it back home in time for his sister’s wedding…

“Mhm,” Louis answers, his knees pulled to his chest, feet on the seat, arms around his legs.

“You sure you don’t wanna eat?”

“I do,” Louis concedes, “but my heat always makes me nauseous.”

“Oh.” Shit, that must really suck. “Ehm… can I get you anything else then? Tea or something?”

“Tea would be nice. I’m gonna come in with you though; I have to use the loo.”

“Oh, um, o-kay…”

They walk into the building together, and it’s one of those rest stops that’s always crowded, no matter the time of day or day of the week. It’s kind of an issue because Louis’ heat is fast approaching and even though he used neutralizing spray before they got in the car, his scent is pretty potent.

As they walk through the café area heads turn in their direction. Alphas stare at them. Well, at Louis, really. They completely ignore Harry by his side, which, well. Harry can’t blame them because Louis’ neck is clean of any mark… Meaning he’s available and unclaimed… An unbonded O about to fall into heat in a few hours to come…

Harry narrows his eyes, straightening out his spine to appear a little taller. The wandering gazes of alphas around them unsettle Harry. He glares daggers at anyone who dares to look at Louis with lustful eyes.

Louis doesn’t react one bit to all the heavy-lidded gazes he’s receiving, but there’s absolutely no way he doesn’t notice them as they walk all the way to the back where the bathrooms are located. Louis doesn’t react at all, but Harry can tell he’s bothered. His fingers clench tightly around the sleeves of the hoodie. His jaw is tense, eyes straight forward, pace hurried and quick.

Harry trails behind all the way to the bathrooms in a way that he doesn’t usually walk (behind an omega). He resists every atom in his body which is screaming at him to wrap his arms around Louis’ waist. To bury his face in Louis’ warm, sweet-smelling neck, and mark him. To cover Louis in Harry’s scent so that everyone knows he’s his.  
(He’s not, he’s not, he’s not.

Louis is not Harry’s. He’s not anybody’s.)

Each bathroom is individual and meant for one person at a time, thank god. Harry lets Louis go first, waiting outside the bathroom door even though another bathroom has just opened up. It’s just that it’s completely against his instincts to leave Louis alone and unprotected right now, when he’s on the verge of becoming so vulnerable. So Harry waits outside and scans the crowd for any alphas who appear predatory.

In a moment the door opens behind Harry and out steps Louis, cheeks flushed pink, eyes wide and a bit dazed.

“We should hurry up,” Louis says breathlessly, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. His skin is beginning to glow with sweat.

“Okay, just let me piss and then we’ll go.” Shit, Harry did not think this through. Now Louis will be left unattended and waiting outside the bathroom door. Half of Harry wants to drag Louis in the loo with him, so he doesn’t have to take his eyes off of him. So he won’t lose him.

(Harry knows if he even so much as suggested Louis coming in the bathroom with him, Louis would punch him in the face.)

“We have to get tea,” Louis points out. “And your dinner.”

Harry sniffs the air tentatively, hoping his action isn’t too obvious. From where he’s standing he can scent the mix of aromas around the café, A’s and B’s and O’s alike. Yet above it all is a different aroma, one that is sweeter and more distinct, one that is so inviting. It’s Louis, and his skin, and his slick probably.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine, just hurry up,” Louis snaps, so Harry shuffles quickly in the bathroom to pee. He wants to jack off so badly, he’s aching for it, but there isn’t any time and the thought of Louis on the other side of the door, waiting, alone and available to any A’s who might approach him, makes Harry hurry up. He hastily washes his hands, not even bothering to dry them before rushing out of the bathroom.

They end up waiting in line forever, Harry growing so impatient he considers forgoing the food and tea to pull Louis into the car without their food. But Louis is insistent. So they leave with a to-go cup of tea and a tofu wrap in a takeout box.

Harry eats as he drives, Louis sips on his tea, and they say nothing. The windows are open completely now, the chilly spring air blowing in with force. It does little to mask Louis’ scent and Harry finds himself dizzier by the second. The last hour of the drive is torturous.

The sight of the beach house nearly leaves Harry salivating, more than ready to get out of the God damn car. He parks haphazardly in the driveway, wasting no time in throwing the door open and stepping out.

Louis is just as hurried. His skin is glowing in the gloaming light of sunset. His eyes have a dazed, far-off look. He has his nose pressed to the collar of Harry’s sweatshirt, breathing in Harry’s scent deeply. He steps out of the car and wraps his arms around himself, staring intently at Harry who walks around towards him.

“C’mere,” Harry mumbles, beckoning Louis forward. He complies, moving into Harry’s arms, and together they walk inside. Beneath Harry’s grasp, Louis is shaking.  
Harry remembers the house, from the summer he spent here with Louis when they were kids, before everything was complicated. But he has no time to look around and reminisce. His attention is solely focused on the omega in his arms.

“I hate this,” Louis whispers quietly once they’re standing in the foyer.

“It’s okay,” Harry soothes, unsure of what else to do so he just lets Louis go, detaching his arms from around him. He backs up a few steps, effectively putting space between them again.

“I hate this,” he repeats, frustratedly, and Harry knows what he means. Louis hates the helplessness and the supplication. He hates the complete lack of autonomy, the absolute dependence. He hates needing something from someone else so badly he can’t think straight.

Harry’s entire being is screaming for him to shove Louis against the wall and fuck him right there, no time to even make it to the bedroom. His entire being is screaming at him to knot Louis, and then to bond him. To sink his teeth into his flesh. To mark the omega his.

Harry’s entire being is begging for him to do this and it makes him feel sick. Harry doesn’t want to push any boundaries, but his biology does. The alpha in him does.  
Harry was raised by his omega mother. He grew up with his omega sister. He believes what they believe—in equality, in fairness. No person should be bound to a life of submission, just as no person should be handed a life of power without a choice.

And yet there’s something within him, his very own DNA, that thinks the exact opposite. The dissonance makes Harry’s skin crawl.

So he pushes the urges away. Takes a deep breath. Says, “before we do anything, you have to tell me what you want. I’m not doing anything without your consent.” And inside he’s frightened he’ll do something he’ll regret. But his words are a small victory.

“Right,” Louis mutters, not saying anything else. Okay, so he’s leaving the awkward, embarrassing conversation to Harry.

“Um, okay. So…” Harry closes his eyes, feeling ridiculous. “So, I’m going to knot you..?” It isn’t much of a question, since Harry knotting Louis is really the only thing they’ve agreed on since their fallout. It’s the entire purpose of the whole ordeal. Harry needs to knot Louis so his heat will end sooner and he’ll make it home in time for his sister’s wedding. Right.

Louis nods slowly, looking at Harry like he’s dumb. Then he adds, “If you bite me I’ll fucking kill you. Got it, Styles?”

“No— I would never—“ Harry fumbles, alarmed. But he doesn’t really mean it, isn’t really as sure as he sounds. He can imagine knotting Louis, not never but maybe. Maybe someday. The thought of bonding Louis is so enticing, so galvanizing. Harry’s body is yearning for it. He chews on his lip, worried and not completely trusting himself. He’s so, so afraid he’ll do something stupid.

Louis just rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. “I’m gonna take a nap.” Then he disappears down the hall without as much as a glance backwards.

Harry doesn’t really know what to do or where to go, but he figures the best plan of action is to give Louis some space. So instead of following him to the bedroom, Harry wanders to the sliding glass doors and steps outside onto the back deck, overlooking the sea.

Out here, it’s beautiful. Harry remembers playing here as a child, running around on the sand the rock, chasing the wind and the waves. They had been younger, more naïve, and with Louis by his side he had felt invincible. Now they’re hardly even friends.

Harry sighs, wishing he could somehow go back to how his life used to be. It’s stupid to cling to his adolescence but he can’t help it. He misses Louis and nothing has been the same since he cut Harry out of his life forever. It’s been eight years, and he should really just let go of it and accept that Louis will never see him as a friend again. It’s not even Harry’s fault, just his own stupid fucking biology that he can’t change. Sometimes (most times) Harry wishes alphas and betas and omegas didn’t exist. Sometimes he just wishes they were all equal, like they were as children before they presented.

Harry misses Louis’ friendship, his companionship. His affection. Harry misses being loved by Louis, as a friend, as family. Harry misses Louis and how things used to be.  
For a long time, he sits outside, just watching the waves crash against the shore. The spring air is chilly but refreshing, nearly calming Harry’s nerves but not completely. His skin still feels hot, and his stomach still churns, and his heart still flutters in his chest. He goes inside after the sun falls beyond the horizon, when he can’t stand the feeling anymore. The burning.

Louis approached him two weeks ago. For what felt like the first time in eight years, Louis was actually talking to Harry. Like, Harry specifically. Not talking to an entire group that Harry just happened to be a part of, not talking to someone else and Harry overhearing. No, Louis was talking to Harry directly and Harry couldn’t believe it.

Harry had been studying in the coffee shop he frequents when he has an upcoming exam. Louis must’ve known he would be there, because as soon as he entered the café he walked through the morning rush crowd with purpose, head tilted high, his gait confident. He approached Harry’s usual booth by the window with gusto, and asked briskly, “can I sit here?”

Shocked, startled, completely caught off-guard, Harry barely managed to mumble an affirmative before Louis was tossing his bag onto the table and sitting down a bit aggressively.

“I need a favor,” Louis stated before Harry could say anything.

Harry set his pen down and fingered at his mug of coffee nervously. “Yeah?” He asked tentatively, feeling uneasy. Louis had been cold to him for years, yet here he was asking for a favor. Harry desperately wanted to stand up from his seat and ask what the fuck do you think you’re doing before storming out of the coffee shop. If Harry wasn’t so weak for Louis, maybe he would’ve done just that.

“So, my sister’s wedding is on the nineteenth.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Lottie’s,” he mumbled, thinking of Louis’ little sister who was so much kinder to Harry. She’s a beta, and like other B’s she usually stayed out of the A/O drama, but sometimes she looked at Harry like she felt sorry for him. Which, yeah, that’s confusing, but maybe Harry was a little too expressive with his pining for Louis.

“You were invited, actually,” Louis said offhandedly, and Harry whispered I know but Louis was already waving his hands in dismissal and moving on. “Anyways, that’s not what this is about. This is about my heat. Which is starting on the fifteenth.”

“What?” Harry blurted, unable to control himself. Louis never talked to Harry. Like, never. So why in the world did he choose then to start talking to Harry again, and about his heat of all things?

“My heat.” Louis repeated, slowly as if Harry was a child who didn’t understand English. “Starts on the fifteenth. Usually lasts a week, maybe more. Lottie’s wedding is on the nineteenth.”

Harry stared at him, unwilling to connect the dots. Nope, not going there. Harry was done thinking of Louis in any other way than as an acquaintance.

Louis huffed, and for the first time during their brief conversation, he looked slightly uncomfortable. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“I mean—“ Harry paused, frowning at his half-empty cup of coffee. “Yeah, you do.” He knew what Louis was getting at but he had to hear him say it out loud, in order to prove Harry wasn’t hallucinating.

“You were always so daft, Harry. Seems that hasn’t changed.” He rolled his eyes. And okay, that insult hurt a quite a bit, mainly because Louis was dragging their past into this. The past was painful.

“Heats last a week if you do them alone,” Louis continued, no shyness discussing a topic so personal and intimate. He had dealt with it for years by then, so it was nothing new, and definitely nothing to be ashamed of. But usually omegas were quieter about their biology. Louis had always been blatant, unforgiving. Unapologetic. “Sometimes even up to ten days, if you’re unlucky. Obviously I can’t do that, because I don’t wanna miss my sister’s wedding. But you know what makes heats shorter? Three days instead of seven?”  
Harry clenched his jaw. Louis’ tone was bordering on condescending. Harry wasn’t sure he preferred this cold, acerbic personality to simply being ignored altogether.  
“Spending it with someone else. An alpha,” Louis answered himself, drumming his fingertips on the table.

You hate alphas, Harry wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead he said this: “There are tons of A’s out there who are more than willing to bond you, Louis.”

Louis shook his head, a grimace on his face. “First of all, I hate knotheads. Secondly, I don’t wanna bond anyone. And you know very well I can’t just spend my heat with any random A if I actually want to live to see my sister’s wedding, so.”

He was right; an unbonded O spending their heat with a stranger was extremely dangerous. Like, one of the stupidest things an O could do. During heat, omegas lost all autonomy, and most A’s—especially strangers—weren’t very thoughtful when it came to respecting boundaries. It didn’t usually end well.

“So why me?” Harry asked, because he honestly didn’t know the answer. Louis despised all A’s, but he was slightly more tolerant of some compared to others. Harry was not one of the A’s Louis tolerated, if the eight years of ignoring him were anything to go off of.

Louis abruptly stopped drumming his fingers on the table. “I need an A. You’re an A.”

“Yeah, but there are other A’s…”

Louis pushed his palms against the edge of the table, straightened his arms, and pressed his back against the booth. “Your mum’s an O and so is your sister. So I feel like you’re slightly less likely to kill me than some other random knothead. Am I right in saying that?”

“I mean— Yeah, I just, don’t know-“

“Good,” Louis interrupted, effectively shutting up Harry. “Well, are you agreeing?”

“To spend your heat… with… you..?” Harry asked very slowly, feeling like he was in the middle of a fever-dream.

Louis nodded slowly, sitting normally again. His gaze was cold and calculating. Judgmental, too.

Harry had taken a deep breath, meeting his icy blue eyes. God, what the fuck was he getting himself into?

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Now in the present, two weeks later, Harry’s stomach is churning with nerves and desire.

He tries to get himself under control as he heads back inside, but the scent of Louis gets to his head immediately. It’s insane. Everything within him is screaming for him to find the omega right now.

Harry forces himself to walk slowly down the hall. He even forces himself to knock on the bedroom door. Louis doesn’t respond, but he opens it anyway. There’s no sense in trying to preserve privacy now; both Harry and Louis will be completely exposed and vulnerable soon enough.

The door swings open and Harry steps into the dark. He holds his breath, trying not to breathe in because he feels like he’s going to lose all sense of control. His eyes adjust, and he sees this:

Louis is on the bed, and he’s half-clothed, only wearing Harry’s hoodie and nothing else, his joggers and pants deposited on the floor. He’s writhing uncomfortably, sweat gleaming on his skin in the dim light, rutting into the sheets. Whining.

“Louis,” Harry says quietly, just to let the omega know he’s in the room now, because that feels important. Harry’s mouth feels dry, his hands numb.

The whining stops as Louis inhales deeply before turning to look over his shoulder, his dark eyes meeting Harry’s. His heavy-lidded gaze is dangerous. Harry can’t help himself as his eyes scan Louis’ body, his toned legs, his soft tummy where the hoodie is pulled up, his beautiful neck. His messy auburn hair, his smooth skin, his dark eyes.

“Harry,” he breathes, and his breath is just a flutter. Just a flutter of the wings of a moth, gliding together, opening and closing. Louis says Harry’s name, just once. A breath of a calling. Quietly.

That’s all it takes for Harry’s self-control to crumble.

He crosses the room in swift strides, making it to the bed in no time. When he gets there he isn’t really sure what he’s doing, except that he needs to be as close to the omega as possible.

Louis is already well-ahead of him, his small fingers tugging on the strings of Harry’s joggers, the bow unraveling. He fumbles, hastily tugging them down Harry’s thighs until he can’t pull them any farther, and then Harry steps out of them the rest of the way. He yanks his shirt off and discards it on the floor, crawling onto the bed, on top of Louis.

Of course, they failed to discuss boundaries, aside from the no-bonding rule. Can Harry kiss him? He isn’t sure, like, at all.

But Louis is there. Right there, actually. Right under him.

(Okay. This is fine.)

Harry gazes down at him for a flash of a moment that feels like a small eternity within itself, for as long as he waits now and has waited in the past, years upon years of futile pining and wasted longing. It is a painful suspension, but necessary. He fixes his eyes on Louis, unnaturally beautiful beneath him, and admires him. His stunning facial structure, his downy skin, his frightening desperation. The way he squirms minutely and gasps with hot breath that reaches Harry’s face and tickles his skin.

Harry is here because Louis asked him to be here. That’s special. That has to count for something. Harry is here because in one form or another, Louis trusts him. Louis trusts him and not only is trust tricky to come by between alphas and omegas, but it’s also something incredibly valued and venerated, maybe because it’s so scarce. Whatever the reason, Louis’ trust in Harry is significant. It has to be.

Trust. Why is trust so intimate? Harry leans down and lets his mouth press to the bow Louis’ upper lip. His skin is hot under Harry’s touch, and with both of their senses heightened, the feeling is enough to send them both to dizzying ecstasy. The touch of their lips together is both a thrill and a harbor at the same time. He is simultaneously dizzied and grounded, and of course their intimacy is multifaceted, but the duality is confusing.

Louis is eager to kiss, and to touch, so that’s what they do. Harry is there to please and satisfy, so he complies and follows the omega’s lead. It’s strange and fucked up and pulling on Harry’s heartstrings but he’ll take what he can get, even if the affection behind their actions is strikingly absent.

Somehow he manages to pull the hoodie off Louis, which is damp from his sweat, and discards it off the side of the bed. His own shirt comes off as well and then there’s no more fabric between them anymore. It’s just skin sliding on skin, soft and warm.

It isn’t long before Louis’ hands are clasping on Harry’s hips and tugging, like he’s trying to force Harry inside him immediately. Harry would normally be elated at Louis’ impatience, but right now he’s caught up in the fact that he desperately wishes this was real and not just because of biology alone.

It’s too much of a desire. Too big of a wish. Harry pushes his feelings away as best he can. Then he gives in. He slides his right hand down between Louis’ legs, leaning on his left forearm, and drags his fingers along the insides of his thighs. Louis shudders and keens and begs for more, and Harry is happy to give it to him. Fingers now inside, Harry relaxes into the pleasant warmth and lets go of himself, giving in to a bit of instinct that gnaws away at him.

He allows his head to fall forward, collapsing into Louis’ delicious-smelling neck, and breathes in deeply. It takes everything within him not to bite. Instead he inhales the sweet scent and noses along the junction between shoulder and neck. Next to his desire to bite is his desire to lick the sweet skin, but he’s afraid if he opens his mouth he’ll lose control altogether, so he settles for closed-lipped kisses and deep inhales.

“Harry, Harry, please,” Louis has been chanting for a while now, and Harry knows that if Louis was lucid he would never, ever let those words slip out of his mouth. Harry knows Louis will probably be extremely embarrassed once this is all over (although it’s doubtful he’ll remember this, especially the very beginning) but Harry feels right now that he should be the one embarrassed. Harry is not the one in heat, and yet he’s acting just as desperate and fervent.

He exhales a deep sigh into the omega’s skin as he slips inside, unwilling and unable to do anything but comply. The feeling is utterly indescribable aside from the fact that the action fills Harry with insurmountable bliss, in the way that he never wants to leave, never wants to let go. Yes it’s evolution and yes it’s instinct and his very own nature, but it’s more than that too, it’s Harry’s lifelong crush on Louis that is really more than a crush since it’s been going on for so long. It’s not just a crush anymore, it’s more than a crush, it’s a yearning, a longing. An affection.

(LOVE.)

It’s deep and messy. Harry’s heart is a bottomless pit of desire and craving, a hunger he can never satisfy because the only person to satisfy it is Louis and Louis will never be his. So he resigns himself to starve, as soon as this is over he resigns himself to waste away.

(Sacrifice.)

Louis has three separate orgasms within the short span of time Harry is fucking into him, which is kind of ridiculous but also kind of amazing to witness. He doesn’t slow until he begins to feel his knot swell, and he quickly pulls out, making Louis whine.

“Hang on,” Harry mutters, breathless, “just gonna…” He quickly flips Louis around so he’s lying on his tummy, the process expedited by the burning feeling in Harry’s core at the lack of contact. He hurries himself and pushes back in, sighing heavily and collapsing on top of Louis, completely spent, as he comes. Louis moans a little but doesn’t complain. They’ll be entangled for a while and Harry wants them to be comfortable.

Harry is exhausted, from driving all day under duress , from knotting Louis, and from trying to keep himself together.

There’s this strange yet undeniable drive within him to protect Louis. The drive has been there all day but right now it’s especially potent, even though there’s no one else around and they’re perfectly safe and secure in the remote house, even more so in the bedroom with the doors and windows locked and everything. Still, that primal voice within him tells him to protect Louis in his vulnerable state and so he does, by literally lying on top of him, covering him with his heavy limbs, keeping warm and safe, wrapped up in Harry’s arms.  
He probably shouldn’t fall asleep like this, but with his body gloriously spent and his face nuzzled into Louis’ sweet-smelling neck, he can’t help but drift off.

+

A little less than a half hour later he wakes up, and by this time his knot has diminished enough for him to pull out of Louis carefully. He rolls over until he’s lying on his back beside the omega, and stares up at the ceiling, still unable to believe he’s really here right now with Louis.

Louis startles awake at the loss of contact and flips over until his side so he’s facing Harry. For some reason Harry expects to see the normal Louis he’s known for years, but again he’s greeted by the face of a passionate, lustful omega. His gaze is dark, heavy, and penetrating, and everything within it conveys desire.

“Again?” Harry asks tentatively, half-asking for permission and half-stalling. He presses his thumb against the flesh of Louis’ hip to punctuate his question.

Louis surges forward and kisses him with energy and desperation, slotting their bodies together until no space remains between them. Harry lets the kissing and the grasping happen for a while before he presses Louis’ back to the mattress and fucks into him again.

The two of them last no more than ten minutes, and then again Harry is collapsing on top of him and gathering the omega in his arms.

They both fall asleep immediately this time, another fitful thirty minutes of shallow slumber, and wake once again when Louis fidgets and moans.

The night goes just like this, fucking and cuddling and sleeping then fucking again. Harry tires sooner than Louis, because even though he’s physically stronger, he isn’t driven by the same motivation. By four in the morning he’s lying splayed out on his back, Louis on top of him, their hands clasped and entangled between them for support.

As tired as he is Harry likes this, likes watching Louis take control and fuck himself on Harry. Using Harry’s body for his own pleasure. Harry especially likes that it’s he himself who is making Louis feel good, and not any other alpha. That little detail is particularly nice.

Harry has lost count of the rounds by the time the sun begins to rise. Golden light filters in from the cracks in the blinds as Louis falls forward and snuggles closer, Harry’s knot still deep within him.

“Sleepy,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s shoulder, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Good, baby,” he responds breathlessly, already drifting off and hoping it’s for longer than a half hour this time. “Go to sleep.”

They drift off together again, chasing sleep to diminish their deep-set exhaustion.

+

Louis wakes up Harry at noon by kissing all the way from throat to hips. They have lazy sex and stay in bed all day, sleeping more than they fuck since they’re so exhausted.  
The bed sheets are grossly covered in sweat and slick and come, so at dinnertime Harry forces Louis out of bed, dragging the sheets off and to the washing machine. Louis clings to him the entire time, unwilling to be physically detached from his alpha.

After that Harry somehow manages to coax the omega into the shower, and they fuck against the wall as cold, refreshing water pours down on them. By the end of their adventurous shower sex, Harry’s arms are sore from holding Louis up for so long. When his knot forms he gently settles to the ground, resting his back against the tile wall, and they sit there under the water for a half hour until they can disentangle themselves.

This time, neither of them falls asleep, and Louis busies himself by running his lips and teeth along Harry’s neck, shoulders, and jaw.

“Bite me,” he keeps saying, but Harry knows it’s just his heat talking. Louis doesn’t really want to bond Harry, as much as his body is telling him he does. Harry gently shushes him with a kiss to the lips and a few soft touches at the junction between shoulder and neck, right where his instincts tell him to bite.

They dry off together and then Harry picks up the naked Louis in his arms, carrying him to the washer to grab the now clean and dry sheets. Putting the sheets back on the bed is an arduous task, especially with the way Louis keeps distracting him with kisses and forward touches.

I love you Harry thinks, after Louis manages to get him back in bed and they’re already finished with another round, now cuddling on top of the blankets. Louis is curled into his side, nose pressed into Harry’s armpit.

The thought is unexpected and startling.

Harry doesn’t know what to think of it, so he pushes it away.

+

The next morning brings a change: Louis is finally more lucid.

He wakes up with bright eyes focusing on Harry’s—which are already on him.

Harry feels a lazy grin light up his face. “Feeling better?” He can’t help but ask, seeing Louis’ sleepy smile and his beautiful face which finally represents his real self.

“Much,” Louis mumbles, and the mortification of the past few days probably hasn’t caught up with him yet because he isn’t shying away from Harry or anything. “Tired though. And hungry.”

Harry sits up and stretches with a yawn, and then for the first time since they got to the vacation house he feels embarrassment at his nakedness. “I’ll make you breakfast,” he offers as he searches the ground for clothes he can wear. He finds his joggers across the room and calculates the speed at which he can dash over there and pull them on.

“Mm, sounds good,” Louis murmurs into the pillowcase, turning onto his stomach and pressing himself into the mattress, cocooned beneath the duvet.

Harry takes this opportunity to depart from the nest of blankets, crossing the room and pulling his joggers on over his legs. Then he spares one last glance at the small omega curled up on bed, and marches on to the kitchen to cook breakfast.

Breakfast consists of as much food as Harry can prepare by the time Louis emerges from the bedroom, sleep-ridden and wearing rumpled pajamas. There are eggs, toast, sausage, fruit, coffee, and pancakes.

When Harry is slicing the last of the watermelon, Louis comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, startling a high-pitched squeak out of him.  
“Sorry,” Louis mumbles sheepishly, pressing his face into Harry’s shoulder blades.

Okay, maybe he’s not as clearheaded as Harry originally thought. Still, he lets himself enjoy the feeling of Louis’ warm arms around his tummy.

They detach to move the food over to the kitchen table, but when Harry sits down on the seat facing the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the sea, he’s again surprised when Louis clambers onto his lap and sits facing him.

“What are you-“ He laughs breathlessly, “-doing?”

“Wanna cuddle,” Louis answers, snuggling close.

“Lou, you have to eat,” he groans, not meaning to let the old nickname slip out. Louis doesn’t seem to notice.

“Only if I can sit with you,” Louis bargains, already turning around and picking up a piece of toast. They eat together in silence, listening to the sound of the wind and the waves outside from the open windows.

“Um, so, I don’t really remember much,” Louis begins hesitantly, picking at the edges of a pancake. “Like, I remember yesterday but not the day before really…”

“Oh. Um, yeah…” Harry isn’t sure how to say it out loud. He attempts, and then ducks out. “We, um… yeah…”

Louis goes stiff in Harry’s arms. “Did I do something I should know about?”

“No!” Harry rushes to assure him, no longer eating his breakfast. “Everything was fine, just a little, um, tiring. I think we, like, set a record for number of rounds, though…”  
“Oh god,” Louis groans, staring down at the kitchen floor, looking mortified. “How… many times?”

Harry does the math in his head, pondering the question. “Uh, like, twice an hour, for… twelve hours…”

Louis slaps his hand over his mouth, so when he says “oh my god,” his voice is muffled by his palms. “I am so sorry.”

“No, seriously, don’t be.” Harry laughs a little manically, feeling dizzy. Louis is still sitting on his lap and he has no idea what to do. He wants to put his hands around Louis’ waist but for some reason that feels like pushing it so he just leans backwards and presses his back again the chair. “It was fun, for me at least.”

“Right.” Louis chews on a green grape. “It was fun for me, I guess. Better than usual at least.”

Harry tries not to think about Louis spending his heats alone. The thought is quite painful to imagine and something he’d really rather not think about. Especially with the knowledge of Louis’ opinion on scenters and everything… how much he hates who he is as an omega…

“Good, I’m glad.”

They fall back into easy conversation after that—easy conversation they haven’t had for eight years. Harry finds himself feeling calm, finally at peace after nearly a decade of his childhood friend acting so cold to him. This easiness, this effortlessness in sharing company is something he has craved with Louis for years, and now he finally has it again.

The circumstances are strange and not exactly what he wanted or imagined, but this is better than nothing. In fact, Harry really doesn’t care how they get back to their friendship, as long as they get back to it.

It’s bizarre, now that they know each other in such an intimate way. Louis has shared something with Louis that he has never shared with anyone else ever before. That’s special. That’s important.

All day Louis clings to Harry, refusing to leave his side despite how exhausted he is. They curl up together on the couch and watch poorly-made Lifetime movies all day, dozing off together.

They have sex once more, and it’s charged with something different than the many previous times. To Harry, at least, it feels a lot more intimate, knowing Louis is more clearheaded and aware. He finds himself slightly embarrassed again as they moan into each other’s skin. It gets worse when they finish and they’re stuck together, entangled on the couch, come sticking to their skin and t-shirts they hadn’t bothered to remove.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

+

Except it is a problem. It’s a very bad problem. Like, a very bad problem, because Harry is very hopelessly enamored by Louis and there’s nothing he can do about it.  
They’re driving home now, halfway there already. Louis has the radio turned up and is singing along obnoxiously to every song. Sometimes Harry joins in but most of the time he just clenches the steering wheel and tries to keep the swells of butterflies in his stomach at bay.

“I smell like you,” Louis observes at a break in between songs.

Harry’s stomach twists uncomfortably again, his palms beginning to sweat. Jesus Christ, he’s really in deep.

“You do,” Harry agrees, a strange streak of remorse in the tone of his voice. He doesn’t admit that he really likes the concept of Louis smelling like him.  
“My entire family is gonna know.”

“It’s no big deal; I didn’t bond you or anything.” Maybe that’s where the remorse is coming from… that deep disgusting primal part of Harry wishes he had done what he really wanted and just bitten Louis’ neck despite Louis explicitly telling him not to bond him.

“Yeah, and that makes it worse.”

“Why does that make it worse?”

“Because everyone’ll think I’m fucking around.”

“It doesn’t matter, Lou.” What he doesn’t say is, aren’t you fucking around, though?

“It does to me. And they know what you smell like. So they’ll knows it’s you.”

“It’s fine. I don’t care. We know the truth and that’s enough for me. Just take, like, a really long shower.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what else to tell you.” Harry accelerates past a car that’s going exactly the speed limit, feeling agitated.  
“Come with me?”

“What?”

“To the wedding. Come with me.”

“That- that doesn’t solve anything.”

“I don’t care. Come with me.”

Ridiculous. Louis is absolutely ridiculous.

But, lucky for him, Harry is kinda ridiculous too.

“I wasn’t invited,” Harry argues weakly and halfheartedly, already conceding.

Louis can clearly see he’s already given up the fight. He smiles like a cat catching a mouse. “You actually were invited,” he admits, “but I stole the invitation out of the stack before Tommy mailed them. So.”

Harry gasps, affronted. “Why would you do that?!”

But it kinda makes sense. Louis had straight-up ignored Harry for eight entire years, and his sister (who was still very kind to Harry and would often make small-talk with him when they had the opportunity) invited Harry to her wedding. What was Louis supposed to do? (Well, the reasonable person would suffer through the awkwardness but of course Louis is ridiculous and decided to steal the invitation before Harry could even think about attending.)

Louis shrugs nonchalantly. “Not important. Just. Come with me.”

Harry presses his lips together. He contemplates.

He gives in.

+

Something happened over the past two days that neither Harry nor Louis planned.

Harry had thought they were safe since he didn’t bite Louis and thus they weren’t bonded, meaning there wouldn’t be any lasting effects of Harry knotting Louis.  
Well, he was wrong. The lasting effect is this: there’s a gnawing in his gut telling him to stay as close to Louis as he can, constantly. An alarm that blares every time the omega isn’t in Harry’s immediate line of vision.

Harry assumes this feeling is similar to what bondmates experience when they’re separated. Except he and Louis are not bondmates, so he’s not sure exactly what’s going on. All he knows for sure is that the night he gets home he doesn’t sleep more than two hours total, despite his heavy exhaustion. For the entirety of the hours he spends staring at the ceiling, all he can think of is Louis.

In fact, it isn’t just during the night that he thinks of Louis. It’s always. Every waking moment of the day, Harry’s mind is occupied by thoughts filled of the omega. It’s painful. Actually physically painful. The distance between them is an insurmountable void that Harry wants nothing more than to charge across and reunite with Louis.

He has to wait until the wedding, though. So he waits, dutifully, and fights the urges to track Louis down and steal him away back to the beach house that has become their safe haven. He busies himself finding a suit to wear to the wedding, and then attempts to fill the remainder of his free time with simple tasks to keep his mind occupied.

It doesn’t work. He thinks of Louis as he hand-washes the few dishes that have accumulated since he returned back to his flat. He thinks of Louis as he does the laundry. He even thinks of Louis as he opens his textbooks and attempts to study for his looming exams. Nothing works. No matter how hard Harry tries, no matter how persistent and insistent he is, he can’t get the thought of Louis out of his head.

As a result, Lottie and Tommy’s wedding the following day is a very welcome gift. Yes, he’s excited for the to-be-married’s and can’t wait to see his family there, celebrating love. But more than that, Harry is fucking ecstatic because he finally gets to see Louis again.

On Saturday morning he drives down to the church relatively early, but once he gets there he sees people are already filing in. He has to park a block away, so he walks with celerity through the city streets until he reaches the cathedral, swiftly stepping up the beautiful marble stairs. He pulls the grand oak door open, feeling the cold metal of the handle in his palm, and steps inside to the beautifully-decorated hall.

The floral scent of bouquets reaches his senses as he gazes in awe at the ethereal cathedral. Everything is so picturesque and perfect, just for Lottie and Tommy. The colors are pale petal pink and lovely ivory, so simple yet so Lottie. The flowers at the base of each pew are effortless and natural, held together with a simple bejeweled band.

Harry walks down the aisle as others file in and finds a spot in the third row, beside Louis’ aunt and uncle. They make cheery small talk as Harry’s insides furl uncomfortably in his stomach. It feels nice to be assimilated back into Louis’ family but strange all the same. After years of avoiding them for the simple sake that he thought Louis hadn’t wanted him there, the transition to being a part of his family again is a stark difference.

Harry sighs lightly as the opening music begins to play. He loves weddings, even though they always make him cry.

And Louis will be here soon. He’s a part of the wedding, of course, and Harry gets to see him all dressed up…

+

No doubt, Harry cries throughout the entire ceremony, starting as soon as Lottie entered the cathedral, until the very last moment when the newlyweds ran back down the aisle, this time hand in hand, as everyone threw glitter at them.

What can he say? Harry loves love.

+

Louis ignores Harry the entire night at the reception.

Full-out ignores him.

Even after demanding Harry attend. Talk about rude.

Harry tries not to let it bother him. He downs a few drinks, thankful for the open bar (the best part about weddings) and then rushes to the dance floor, immediately joining the group of people who appear to be having the most fun. They’re Lottie’s friends, dancing in a big circle and laughing so hard they’re nearly falling over. Harry fits in easily and has a great time.

Well, except for the alarm going off in his mind telling him to find Louis immediately, and, well, the rest is a bit R-rated.

The worst part is, Harry can scent him, even in the crowd of people. Perks of being in love with Louis for so long, he thinks sadly. He can pick out Louis’ scent even in a crowd of hundreds. It’s kind of pathetic.

When Harry has to piss because of the mass amounts of alcohol he has been consuming nonstop for hours now, he ducks out of the dance party and hightails it through the reception hall and down a maze of corridors until he finds the loo.

He opens the door. And, well. Just his luck, because the man who has been on his mind for ages now is there, with his back turned to him, washing his hands.

Harry doesn’t know what to say or even if he should say anything at all, so he just heads over to a urinal and does his business because he really does have to go.

Then he zips up and turns around, and finds Louis still standing there. Leaning against the sink, hands braced on its edges, blatantly staring at Harry.

“Having fun?” He asks with a smirk, making a show of looking Harry up and down. Harry is certain he’s glowing with sweat, certain his cheeks are tinged pink. He blames both the alcohol and the dancing.

“Yeah,” he responds nonchalantly, not willing to give Louis the satisfaction of appearing affected by him. Even though he is. Deeply affected by him, that is. If Louis wants Harry, he’ll do something about it. This time, it won’t be Harry to make the move.

He’s done chasing. Finished pursuing. Sick and tired of it, in fact, after doing it for so long. More than eight years. All his life.

Yes, it seems Harry has loved Louis for all his life. Which is just. Great. Considering Louis is unresponsive and, frankly, hates him.

Louis’ smirk twists slightly into a grimace when he sees Harry is done playing. He looks sad for a moment, or something (Harry isn’t quite sure) and then his features morph into a softer, more natural smile.

“We need to talk,” he says quietly, standing up from where he was leaning against the sink.

Harry approaches him and begins to wash his hands, eyeing himself in the mirror. He looks like a right mess, but not a bad mess. He looks happy, which is good. If not a bit tired.

“Talk about what?”

Louis shakes his head minutely, tapping his fingers on the edge of the sink. “Just… stuff.”

“What stuff?” Clearly Harry is purposefully playing dumb. Although he’s not entirely certain Louis is getting at what he thinks Louis is getting at.

Louis narrows his eyes and then looks away. “About us. About what we are.”

If Harry were brave, like he likes to think he is, he would take this opportunity to say something snarky like we aren’t anything or something to that effect. If Harry were malicious like he hopes he isn’t he would twist the knife in a little deeper so Louis would have to suffer just as Harry has for all these years. If Harry were truly a knothead he would make Louis spell everything out clearly just to watch him squirm.

But Harry isn’t brave and he isn’t malicious and he tries his hardest not to be a knothead even though it literally is his alpha-nature.

Instead, he smiles reassuringly at Louis. “Sure. Wanna talk now or..?”

Louis hesitates, again looking nervous. “Um, tomorrow. Like, we can go out for breakfast?”

Internally, Harry sighs. This is a very nice change from cold Louis, acerbic Louis. The Louis Harry always gets because Louis hates alphas and Harry is an alpha. Spending his heat with him was only a short vacation from real life and Harry wholeheartedly expected nothing to change after they got back, even though in a way everything changed.

“Sure!” Harry tries not to sound too ecstatic, but he’s sure he probably failed. He isn’t too bothered, though, because it sounds like Louis is asking him out on a sort-of date. Which is exactly what Harry has been waiting for since he was, like, five years old.

“Umm, okay… That cafe by yours? Is that okay? We can meet there at ten.”

Louis is referring to the very same café he found Harry in just two weeks prior, where he had asked Harry to spend his heat with him.

“Lovely,” Harry comments cheerfully, feeling his drunk heart swell with excitement. “See you tomorrow, then!” And with that he rushes out of the bathroom quickly, afraid if he stays in there any longer he’ll do something he’ll regret.

It doesn’t matter. Harry spends the rest of the party in a very good mood, feeling light as a balloon.

+

It isn’t until morning that reality sets in. That’s when the nerves hit.

Oh fuck, Harry thinks as he’s pulling on a pair of black jeans. Shit. He is so not prepared to deal with this right now. This being his impending relationship with the very same omega he has been pining after all his life.

He pulls on a comfy green jumper, slips on his worn suede boots, grabs his keys, and exits his flat in a whirlwind of thoughts.

Harry walks to the café rather than taking his car, partly due to the annoyance of parking on city streets but mainly because the walk in the chilly spring weather helps him clear his mind. He walks quickly to rid himself of jitters, but it doesn’t exactly work, so when he enters the café fifteen minutes early he’s just a blob of anxiety. He hikes all the way to his usual window seat, ready to put his head down until Louis arrives, hopefully catching some sleep in the meantime.  
Except. Louis is already there.

“Oh!” Louis exclaims when Harry sits down on the bench across from him, clearly not expecting Harry for another fifteen minutes. “You’re here early.”  
“So are you,” Harry blushes.

“Right.” Louis looks down at his mug of tea, fiddling with the napkin beneath it. “Listen, Harry, before you say anything, I have to, um. Apologize. For like, many things.”  
Harry frowns but doesn’t interrupt, letting Louis make his point.

“Listen, the past few years… I know I was awful to you. And like, you’re the last person on earth to deserve such treatment. Which makes what I did to you even shittier. So. I’m sorry, for like, everything. And I don’t expect you to forgive me at all, in fact, if I were you I probably wouldn’t.” Louis bites his lip, pausing, and looks sad. “I just want you to know that you did nothing wrong and it was all me. I regret being so cold to you. So, yeah…”

Harry smiles sadly. “I won’t say what you did was okay, but I forgive you.”

Louis shakes his head. “You don’t have to say that, Harry, seriously. Just, I need to thank you for spending my, um, heat with me because you said yes without question just because you wanted to help a friend out, and I admire that.”

Yes, here they are. Old friends reconciling in a coffee shop on a chilly spring morning. One’s hands strangling a mug of tea and the other’s folded nervously in his lap. They share hesitant glances at each other and look away when their eyes meet. They speak softly of their regrets and apologies. One of them is in love and the other isn’t. That’s just how it is.

Harry chews on his bottom lip and then brings his hand to his mouth to chew on his thumbnail instead. He stares at Louis but Louis doesn’t stare back. He wants to get his attention so he whispers, so so quietly, “ I could never say no to you.”

And, well, that’s quite an admission.

Even worse, it’s the honest truth.

Louis lifts his head sharply, his gaze piercing straight through Harry.

“Don’t say that.”

“What? Why?”

Louis groans. “I feel awful, Harry. I was terrible to you for years and then as soon as I needed something from you I went and asked you and then I- I used you. Which is. Despicable.”

I’d take anything I could get, as long as it was with you, Harry thought dully. He doesn’t say that out loud, though. Instead, what he says is, “you know I’ve had a crush on you since we were kids, don’t you? Like, Lou… you know that, right?”

Louis’ eyes widen slightly. And then he slaps his palm over his face and groans loud enough for the other patrons of the café peacefully sipping their Sunday morning coffee to look over and glare. Louis doesn’t care. He drops his head to the table and hits it against the wood a few times, saying “I’m- the- worst-“ and punctuating every word with another hit to the table.

Harry carefully slides his hands underneath the impact zone so that when Louis goes to hit his head again his face lands in Harry’s hands.

“I’m fine with being friends again,” Harry says, tapping Louis’ soft cheek with his finger. “Can we be friends again?”

“Hazza,” Louis whines, and wow, it’s been a while since he’s used that nickname. “Why don’t you hate me?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “If you want me to answer that question, you’re gonna have to wait a while because I have an entire novel full of reasons why I like you, so.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, although I’m not really sure what I did.”

“No Haz, you did nothing wrong.”

But Harry knows what he did wrong.

It’s more complex than that. The situation is multifaceted and intricate. Touchy, even. Because ultimately, Louis and Harry are fundamentally different. There are some things that the other will never be able to understand. But, they’ll have to try. Harry is determined to try. Empathy and understanding are the most important aspects to any relationship, whether it’s platonic or romantic or none of the above. Given the chance, he’s determined now to make things right.

It’s simple: Harry isn’t completely innocent, just as Louis isn’t completely at fault.

Harry wasn’t there when Louis needed him all those years ago, and in fact that might be the worst crime of all.

+

They go back to Harry’s flat afterward, so as to rekindle whatever was lost of their friendship. Harry makes a pot of tea and then they get comfortable on the couch together, flipping through Netflix until they find something interesting.

They begin with nearly three feet of space between them, at the start of the movie. By the time the credits roll, that space has been reduced to nothing.

+

Mending their relationship takes time. It goes slowly, at first, as Louis grows from his resentment of alphas and Harry learns to understand the hardships omegas face every day. They spend almost all of their time together, regretfully neglecting their other friends and other obligations. But Harry knows this is important so he doesn’t question it, or try to stop it.

They grow together now like they grew up together before, learning from each other, transforming each other into better people. They complement each other. Where one is flawed, the other is more perfect. Where one is belligerent, the other is benevolent. Where one is broken, the other is brave.

Even their biology is complementary. As they slowly unravel and grow closer together, Harry and Louis find this is a fact they can’t ignore. It’s a shame, really, that it’s quite difficult for A’s and O’s to just remain friends. Sad, even, in most cases. Except in this case it just feels right.

It’s Sunday morning again, although it’s months later from that first time they met in the coffee shop, and now instead of frigid spring it’s deep in summer. Warm and sunny and blissfully serene. Summer has always been a dream, though it’s quite tragic and lonely when spent without a lover. Luckily, Harry has his best friend back, so he doesn’t feel the wistful longing of deep July as much as he used to.

Louis is sleeping in Harry’s bed, actually. Which is, well. Nice. Even if Harry is on the floor.  
The story goes like this: Louis came over to Harry’s flat that Saturday night, and they turned the AC on as high as it would go so they could bundle up beneath the duvet, snuggling into its warmth as they watched a handful of films late into the night. They had been drinking, not much, just a few glasses of red wine spread out within the span of hours. Still, when the last movie ended and Louis could barely keep his eyes open, Harry assured him it was fine if he stayed over. No problem, in fact. Harry would just take the floor so as not to overstep any boundaries.

Well, with the situation of Louis sleeping over came the inevitable Harry-and-Louis-waking-up-together. Which was pleasant, especially on a beautiful summer Sunday morning.

“Harry,” Louis whispers into the stillness of the sunny room, shifting so his nose is no longer pressed into Harry’s pillow. Harry has the feeling Louis had been scenting it all night, which, again, not that Harry minds. In fact he likes the thought of Louis enjoying his scent.

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

Harry stands up easily and stretches his arms above his head, tilting his head back like he does in yoga during sun salutations. Then he answers to the sound of Louis voice and approaches the bed.

“Come closer,” Louis mumbles, probably still dizzy from sleep. His voice is lighter and softer than usually, which must be how it always is in the mornings.  
Harry savors this revelation and sits beside Louis on the edge of the mattress. “Yes?”

“Closer,” Louis urges, sleepily tugging him down so he’s lying next to Louis. He arranges the duvet so that it’s covering Harry, then leans his head back down on the silk pillowcase. Like this, their faces are only centimeters apart. They share breaths.

“Good morning,” Harry chimes quietly, happy and content to just simply be. Be here, right now, beside Louis. A dream.

Louis gently pushes Harry over so he’s lying on his back. Then he climbs on top of him.

The thing is, it’s completely expected. And that’s what makes it so great.

Harry always thought soulmates were supposed to cause butterflies and fireworks. Now he knows from experience that true soulmates aren’t excitatory. Instead, they’re calming. Like cool river water washing over the reeds, pulling on them with a gentle current beneath the midday sun, Louis is soothing to Harry. With him, his heartbeat slows and his breath normalizes. He feels completely and wholly at peace, and that is beautiful.

Louis, on top of Harry, presses his palms into Harry’s biceps and squeezes them teasingly before running his fingertips down Harry’s skin. Harry closes his eyes, content, and lets Louis do as he pleases.

Everything feels right. Even when Louis leans down and brushes his lips softly against Harry’s. Harry feels that calm, cool river lapping over his insides and he relaxes into Louis’ touch, kissing back. It’s much, much different from the time they spent together so many months ago, during Louis’ heat. Back then they were rushed and impatient and extremely passionate.

Now, though they have that same passion, they take things slowly. They have all day to explore each other and get used to the feeling of being so close, even though it’s already so familiar.

Harry sighs happily and waits until Louis is preoccupied trailing his fingers beneath Harry’s shirt before he kisses down Louis neck, licking at the spot between collarbone and neck. The spot that will one day hold a pretty bite mark.

“Do it,” Louis advocates, petting Harry’s hair with one hand and squeezing Harry’s hip with the other.

Harry shakes his head and reaches up to kiss Louis’ jaw. Then his cheek. Then his lips.

“Soon, baby, I promise.”

They kiss lazily all day, staying in bed and enjoying the lovely summer sun filtering in through the large wall of windows. They have time, so they use it, to explore each other. To map out and memorize each other. There’s no need to hurry, no rush.

They have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> [READ THE SEQUEL HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12473656)
> 
> All comments are appreciated! I'm posting this late at night so if you see any typos feel free to tell me. And if you enjoy it you can reblog [ the fic post that goes along with it!](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/165495639569/love-is-like-this-not-a-heartbeat-but-a-moan-by)
> 
> Also, find me on [ tumblr. Thanks for reading!](http://angelichl.tumblr.com)


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